Red Bleeds Desire
by Ganymede's Quill
Summary: Edward and Alphonse, trapped in a glacial stalemate at Fort Briggs, must contend with the brink of war and keeping Winry out of the crossfire. The latter becomes impossible when Envy kidnaps her to become Lust's new vessel. Heartbroken, Edward sets out to free her from the claws of Lust and confront his deeper feelings. Rated M for language/violence/sexual content. FMAB. EdxWin.
1. Chapter 1: Cold Words

**Please Read author's note:** I do not own any of the characters in this story or the FMA/ FMA: Brotherhood Universe. They are all the product of Hiromu Arakawa's imagination. This project is a little endeavor I've been working on to practice my writing skills. I apologize if the language is a bit difficult at times, and I hope you can enjoy the story. If you aren't into that sort of thing, just skim the first few paragraphs, and I promise the story becomes much more digestible. I would really like to have some constructive feedback, so please feel free to comment. With all of this said, happy reading!

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><p>The silence of the chamber was merely a temporarily woven veil to which he sat in contemplation. The homunculi had all taken their leave to fulfill what deeds and tasks were required of the Promised Day, leaving him to the cumbersome stream of consciousness that he had yet to staunch in the centuries of his existence. He drifted languidly into the past, the world once more impalpable from the confines of a small, dirty bottle. He was something yet nothing, like a wisp of air in the vast constructs of the atmosphere. He had been but a prototype in the synthesis of life, a forsaken plaything of the great alchemists of Xerces.<p>

His lips curled into a shape of satisfaction. The Ancient Ones, The Forefathers, The Great Ones of Xerces. A lily, gilded by many names, could be nothing more than a lily. Men hate and love, murder and give life, grow old and die. They had been no exception to this natural frame of humanity. These "Great Ones" had once boasted the highest tiers of a magnanimous utopia, towering above the trite world that blossomed around them. They had ascended the ladder to God's door and knocked with righteous fists. As for God, He had most certainly answered back. It was queer how the gears of fate turned beneath the floorboards of the universe. A plume of sentient smoke could become an unstoppable impetus in the course of a minute. The gods of yesterday could make the gods of today, their names lost to the wind like ash and their bodies the pillars of a new temple. How great and terrible he had become, molding a fain civilization from the tips of borrowed fingers. These fingers, forged in the fires of betrayal, had thrust away fathomless myriads of human lives and wrought apart the fabric of Xerces... A river of blood shed to bear the illustrious barges of his unparalleled genius.

And suddenly, he was pulled from the bottle of the past into the cimmerian bowels of his chamber. The subtle burning in his chest had once again ignited into a current of boiling blood that raced to the tips of his fingers. He sighed and gave a subtle twitch of the lip, leaning further back into the warm metal of his chair to close his eyes. He flexed his tingling fingers and shunned the hot sensation from his forethoughts. The heat of the room sweltered and pulsed like the blood of an animal, sending him back into the obscure haze of thought.

The ends had truly justified the means. From the fray of death, even he could conceive a family. Oh yes... his family. His children, the Seven, the immaculate incarnations of his sapien iniquities. He could not claim love for them, nor tender sentimentalities, nor any sliver of paternal instinct. And yet, they were everything. They existed to be his rapacious vessels, puppeteers of the miniscule life that tread upon the dirt above him. They were his sin, his essence, his hands, his ideals... but most of all, his purge. They cleansed his being of its faint thread to humanity and such nature-born ills. They were the seven chalices to which his veins could leach their mortal toxins.

He grimaced for a moment and sighed The geyser in his chest had once again erupted to his extremities, searing his pounding blood vessels.

The equilibrium was awry, buffering the consequences in his agonized veins. Six of his children remained: ravished Gluttony, dull-witted Sloth, malicious little Envy, dogmatic Wrath, treacherous Greed, and the ever terrible Pride, his favorite above all others. One child was to be left unaccounted for of the Seven. His Lust had perished, scorched to death by one of those human in the fifth lab. He could almost revel in the irony of it: the incarnation of burning desire literally reduced to mere ash and smoke. Allegory had a tendency to have the last laugh.

He, however, could relish no laughter at the present. She was beneath his skin once more, writhing little flames that snaked from his core to his extremities. She simmered in him like a cauldron filled with a thousand years of man's unnatural yearnings. It sickened him. A grotesque, defeated beast, she had crawled back into the purity of her master's veins. They were One again, a hideous chimera of himself and human nature. It was all that he could do to resist cleaving her out with a knife. He had felt this revulsion day and night since she had perished in the hearth of Human Will. No longer would he tolerate the scornful heat that threatened to incinerate the sincerity of his composition. Lust would resurrect again.

And so it began... the synthesis of another homunculus was already brewing in his synapses. He would begin the arduous process of isolating Lust once one of the homunculi was prowling for a vessel. Who Lust was to be, he cared not. One human was as good as the next; they were no more than a remedial quip of nature, pawns in the scheme of greater consciousnesses like himself.

"Ugh, it's so damn dreary in here... as usual. I honestly can't understand how you tolerate spending all of your time in a hole. " A familiar rasp echoed, dismembering the veil of silence. Envy, with his usual arrogant swagger, strode before his Father like a great, stealthy cat. The violet light of the homunculus's eyes shone to him like a beacon across the tempest of his internal disarray.

"Envy," he replied, "It has been quite the interim since you've come to visit your Father. How well desired your audience is at the present."

"How you flatter me, Father! Perhaps I will grow a large, fat head like Pride ," he purred, his grin flashing like the glint of a dagger. "I came to inform you that Sloth has reached Briggs, and the tunnels are almost completed. But... what else do you require of me, Father?"

"Our road to the Promise Day has been paved accordingly and few blemishes have presented us with missteps or stumbles. Victory is not at our fingertips, it is a promise. However, I cannot help but believe that my new order cannot be built if one of the foundation stones is missing. After all, does a tree not produce more fruit if none of its branches have been severed? Perhaps, my Envy, I should be the Father of Seven again?"

"Do go on." Envy settled upon a step at Father's feet, resting his cheek daintily upon a listless hand. The two beacons shone at Father with deadly curiosity as the homunculus awaited the words settled on his Father's tongue.

"I have decided upon resurrecting Lust. I assume that you understand what is to come next, correct?"

"I see," Envy mused. A deep cackle echoed from his throat "Which one of those shit-eating worms would you like me to nab?"

"It matters not. I shall leave the choice to you. I advise you pick a resilient vessel, one that won't die in the fusing process," Father mumbled, sweat glazing the sides of his temples as Lust paved her treacherous path through his body. "I would make Lust's body from pure Philosopher's Stone as I had done originally but I must reserve my energies for greater use with the Promise Day drawing so near at hand."

"Let me see…," Envy purred, his face aglow with the contemplation of a child in a candy store. "I've always savored a dose of poetic justice, and Mustang's little blonde shadow would look oh-so-striking in black."

"An interesting suggestion. However, I would rather leave her open for candidacy as a sacrifice."

"What a shame. I could already imagine the look on that flame bastard's face as he makes a tender out of his little girlfriend. What about the wife of the man I shot, or the girl I framed for his murder?"

"As I have said, Envy, the choice is yours. I trust that you, out of all of my children, should be most fit for this task."

A self satisfied expression plastered Envy's face as his thoughts hummed through various options. Slowly, another noxious smile split Envy's expression, more cruel and caustic than any of the previous ones. His eyes shone up at his Father, echoing the malicious thought that had seeded in his head. "There's a pretty young face that fixes automail for Hohenheim's eldest. A spirited little bitch with some cunning and bite. As we speak, she's up North with Pip-squeak and his brother. It might take longer to get her here than a random kidnapping but I assure you she's the best candidate in my mind."

Expressionless, Father nodded. "It is settled, I suppose. This girl shall be my new Lust."

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><p>"Brother, when are you going to stop pouting and go get some dinner? It's not like you to ignore a meal."<p>

"WHENEVER I WANT, DAMMIT! EVER THOUGHT THAT MAYBE I'M NOT ALWAYS HUNGRY?!"

"Listen, I know what this is about. She meant it with the best intentions_"

"BEST INTENTIONS? BEST INTENTIONS?! SHE FOLLOWED US TO THE NORTH! THIS IS HARDLY A FITTING PLACE FOR HER, AND SHE'S PRACTICALLY PUT HER HEAD RIGHT ON THE CHOPPING BLOCK FOR WRATH AND THE REST OF THE HOMUNCULI!"

Regardless of the height difference, Alphonse had to use all of his strength to push down a fuming Edward. His armored hands clamped over his older brother's shoulder as he internally flinched at the angry white-gloved pointed at his face. "I know that this is not an ideal situation for any of us but if you think about it, having Winry close like this is better than we could have imagined. After all, it'll be easier to keep an eye on_"

"THAT IS NOT THE POINT! HOW THE HELL ARE WE GOING TO PROTECT HER, FIGURE OUT WHERE MAY IS, AND KEEP THAT RAGING PSYCHOPATH, KIMBLEE, OFF OF OUR ASSES?!"

"I know there is a lot going on but could you please cool down_"

"WE'RE IN THE MIDDLE OF A FUCKING TUNDRA! I COULDN'T BE ANY COOLER, AL!"

"What the hell are you two screaming about? I can hear you from inside." Closing the door behind her, a young blonde woman joined the brothers on the battlement in the fanged breath of the North. Even in her thick, white parka, she shivered and crossed her arms to maintain what meager heat she could.

"Nothing," muttered Ed, looking down and kicking his heel at a drift of snow.

"Really? Because it sure doesn't sound like 'nothing.'" Her bright blue eyes flashed as cold as the icicles that crowned the terraces around them.

"Winry, when are you going to learn to mind your own business?!" His fierce golden glare heralded a warning to his stubborn counterpart.

"What's that supposed to mean, BIG guy?"

"ARE YOU MOCKING MY HEIGHT?!"

"WHAT DO YOU THINK, GENIUS?!" Winry shoved her face inches from Ed's, both of their eyes glowing like indignant coals.

"SOMEDAYS, WOMAN, I COULD JUST_ JUST_ ARRGGGHHHH!" Edward's hands clutched futilely at the vague threat.

"YOU COULD WHAT, SHORT STUFF?" Winry's smirk shattered the last remaining sliver of Ed's patience.

"SHOOOORT?! SHOOOOORT?! I COULD TRANSMUTE YOU INTO A DOG! MAYBE THEN YOU'D LEARN TO LISTEN EVERY ONCE IN AWHILE!"

"OH YAH! GO FOR IT, FULLMETAL DWEEB!"

"GUYS!" Alphonse boomed, throwing his large metallic hands in the air. "Stop it already! Please! We are already in a delicate situation, and you two fighting is only making it worse!"

Both eyes turned to Alphonse. After a moment, a sullen Edward shook his head and walked away towards the door, his expression vacant and stony.

"Whatever. I'm going to go get breakfast," muttered the brooding boy. There were more things to be spending energy on rather than arguing with that impossible girl. Like how to get her out of this damned mess.

"Fine. Drink some milk though. At least you might solve your height problem," Winry scathed.

"OOOOOHHHH!" Ed roared as he slammed the door shut behind him.

"What's his problem? Is he embarrassed that I'm here? Are all the soldiers teasing him about me, saying that I'm his girlfriend or something? If he's really so embarrassed of me_"

"Stop, Winry. It's not like that," Al pleaded. He couldn't tell her the real reason for Ed's soured reaction, to outright say that she was a hostage, a liability meant to keep them in line. Not yet at least.

"Then tell me, Al, why is he being such an ass?! All I did was come up here to help him adjust his automail. You would think that he would be a bit more grateful! I swear, he has got to be the most pig-headed ass of a boy I've ever met. Never calls! Never sends a letter! Visits only when he needs repairs! I know he has a lot of important things to do but at the very least, couldn't he write a short note or something?! Have I ever been worth that time?" Winry stopped for a breath but continued full-steam before Al could interject.

"For the last day and a half, all he's done is scold me. I'm starting to get the picture that I am not only unexpected but unwelcome here. All I wanted to do was help the damn jack-ass, and attitude is the thanks I get! And maybe, even though it's such a WILD notion, I wanted to see you two. Maybe... I've missed you two." The girl's voice had softened as her anger thawed a nerve of poignancy that had long been buried away. A tear slid down her cheek, hard and iridescent like the ice that imprisoned the landscape. It was a snowflake, a chilled, condensed remnant of the pain she had subdued in the years of their absence. It was a small fraction of the greater loneliness that was forever draped over her shoulders.

"Three years, Alphonse. Three years of working late into the night, hoping that the smell of grease would keep away the nightmares. Three years of setting out four plates, just in case two chairs at our table wouldn't be empty for a change. Three years of watching down that long dirt road, fooling myself into thinking that there were glimpses or red and silver in the distance. Three years of assuming the worst... three years of biting my nails over whether his next visit would be in a pine box. Has it all been for nothing? Tell me Al, what do I mean to him? Am I so unimportant in his life that he is bothered to see me for more than tune ups? How else could a childhood friendship be reduced to casual business? I'm such an idiot to think that he cared. I am NOTHING to him... Nothing more than a wrench." She turned away from Alphonse, wiping an embittered tear away with her parka sleeve.

"Winry... you are everything to him." Alphonse's words were hush, lilting like the tune of a consoling lullaby. Winry's heart leapt as she processed his words, her brain rejecting the boldness of their connotation. She turned again to face Al. Her blue, bewildered eyes searched the two blank slits that windowed his trapped soul. These eyes were not flesh but they were human, and never had she seen more sincerity.

"I-I…" It was all she could regurgitate as he walked back through the door, leaving her to contemplate his meaning in the falling twilight.

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><p>"You really shouldn't have been so hard on her, brother." The two Elrics strode side-by-side down a dimly lit corridor away from the mess hall. This was the first time Al had spoken since the incident on the battlement. The only sound made during breakfast was the rapacious gulps and knawing sounds made by Ed.<p>

"Hard on her?! This is no time to be sensitive to feelings! She made a boneheaded error by coming here, and I had to let her know! Sure, it doesn't solve anything but maybe if she's upset enough, she won't linger. She'll get the job done and get out. If the Crimson Asshole will put down the hostage card, that is."

"Wait," Al came to an abrubt halt. "You mean to tell me that your plan is to upset her enough to leave, or at least want to leave?"

"Well… yah," muttered a bemused Ed, rubbing the back of his golden head. "Why?"

"ARE YOU BLIND?!" Al exclaimed, much to the surprise of his older sibling.

"Al, what are you getting_"

"YOU CAN'T JUST SHOVE HER ASIDE AND TREAT HER LIKE THAT!"

"I-I…" Edward was stunned. They had been together for fourteen years of life but never once had he heard his younger brother react so passionately.

"She has feelings, Brother... and they're a lot deeper than you know," stated the suit of armor, stopping to observe the change in his brother's demeanor. Ed's eyes widened at the statement, brimming both with curiosity and revelation.

"Al… you don't mean…" But Ed couldn't speak with how much disbelief dammed his throat. His younger brother had thrown more veracity at him than he could handle. The younger brother had abstained from words though, allowing the assumption to unfold in his sibling's dazed head.

"Al... Al, answer me! What the hell are you talking about?!"

However, neither could broach the situation farther as shouts sounded in the distant bowels of the fort. Hearts pumping, the Elric brothers raced closer to the source of the noise, passing through the grey dimly lit halls. To their dismay, the jargon was emanating from the area that Sloth had tunneled into the previous day. Could he have returned, possibly with reinforcements?

As they descended into the great boiling room, their eyes were immediately drawn to the flood of men pouring from the great, jagged mouth in the middle of the room. Through the sea of bodies, the older Elric spied a long shock of golden hair bobbing like a lantern through the melee.

"What's going on, General?" Edward raced over to assist the woman as she effortlessly pulled a large man out of the gaping hole.

"The search party found some survivors. Everyone keeps babbling of a monster or some nonsense like that," she growled in her usual virulent manner, her blue eyes sending a cascade of needles down his spine. Something was off kilter, though. Where those eyes shone with the hard glint of frigid animosity, a new light had replaced it with the haze of pensive indecision and concern. If he didn't know any better, Edward could have sworn that he saw fear in her valiant heart. As if sensing her own vulnerability, General Armstrong turned to salvage the last soldier from the Hell that had erupted from beneath their feet.

"Was it the creature from yesterday?" Al coaxed.

"No," the fierce blonde barked. "Not the thing from yesterday by the sounds of it."

"What'd it look like? What happened to the other men?!" Ed asserted, urgency rising in his voice.

"They... they said they don't know," she mumbled. "All they know is that the shadows began to act odd, and then the rest of the soldiers were somehow torn apart by nothing."

The hairs on Ed's nape tingled with unspoken horror. What could possibly be down there? Another homunculus? Or was it something completely different, a hound sent by the Father to deter their search? Whatever it was, it had destroyed almost a whole fleet of Northern soldiers and left a strange chill even in the heart of this vicious Lioness.

"Men," roared General Armstrong. The stream of babble staunched itself as all eyes focused on the iron-cut figure. "I order you to seal that hole by 24:00. Failure to follow these orders will result with all of you sleeping in the snowbanks with the bears tonight. Got it?"

"Sir, yes, sir," came as a roaring wave over the sea of petrified faces.

"Good. Now get a move on, ladies, before I spoon feed you to the North!" As she turned her golden mane and departed, Ed watched the petrified faces of the men as they set about to their task. Somehow, Ed knew that the terror in their eyes had nothing to do with bears.

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><p>With the dark having settled over the bitter wasteland, most of the inhabitants of Fort Briggs were eating and retiring to entertainment for the evening. Light murmurs echoed through the room as Edward lay facedown while Winry tediously worked away at his automail. With nothing more than the flicker of a candle left to grant him sight, he closed his weary eyelids. The day had been long and tiring as he tried to rationalize the mess that brewed beneath their feet. However, his mind was as close to an answer as Briggs was to being a tropical paradise. Whatever was happening, it was soon to be sealed by three feet of solid cement. Rather than dwell on questions without answers, Edward's mind turned over other disconcerting affairs. Through the headache of this day, he had been unable to escape the incessant ring of Al's words: "YOU CAN'T JUST SHOVE HER ASIDE AND TREAT HER LIKE THAT! She has feelings, Brother... and they're a lot deeper than you know."<p>

Was there something that he was missing? Nothing had seemed awry the day that Winry had set boot into Briggs. He had greeted her with "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!" And she had responded by nailing him in the head with a frozen wrench. Nothing out of the ordinary. Every comment exchanged, every quarrel, every moment shared was the exact same it had been in Resembool four long years ago. It was nothing more, nothing less.

A wave of nostalgia bathed him as he reflected on the years before the storm. Guilt stirred in his chest as he realized how truly inattentive he had been to the girl. Three years, he and Alphonse had been reduced to a nomadic lifestyle. With one assignment to another and their constant search for The Philosopher's Stone, they could not remain in one place long enough to call it home. Dogs of the military; he snickered at the phrase. In truth, they were nothing more than tamed strays, doing tricks and jumping through hoops just to get their bodies back. Here all along, he had refused to call a warm bed and long history home. Perhaps, he had been wrong. Wherever Winry was, she made it seem like home to him. Even in the frozen jaws of Briggs.

The murmurs of a few onlooking soldiers coaxed Ed's eyelids to part once more. Against his own judgement, he turned his gaze to the silent figure that held vigil over his body. Remembering the tension that had erupted a few hours back, he chose to remain silent as she moved fastidiously in her work. Glimpses of her face danced through the ballet of shadows, allowing him to truly observe her for the first time since she had arrived. He was pleasantly shocked by how how womanly she had become. Winry's hair had grown longer and lighter, like bountiful shocks of wheat the spilled down her shoulders. Her eyes glistened a deeper shade of consciousness, judicious yet youthfully exquisite in the same right. Dark, fluttery eyelashes veiled the two sapphires, shrouding their knowledge with virginal mystique. Rose petal lips, softly defined cheeks, a freshly blossomed rouge; before he knew it, her entire face had been engrained into the very recesses of his mind. Was all of this from the lifting fog of adolescence?

He was awed by all of the changes that had suddenly erupted in his friend. Or... had she been changing this whole time, and he had foolishly ignored it? Come to think of it, hadn't he developed too? Gone were the days of lanky limbs and baby fat; the seed of manhood had begun to germinate in him. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he was leaving behind the rhine of childhood. It felt strange that the only proof of his childhood was beginning to fade like dew in the growing rays of the morning. He was more muscular, his voice had dropped like a bag of stones, and shaving was becoming a reoccurring ritual. The only way that he had failed to age was... height growth. He groaned at the thought.

"What's wrong?" His pretty companion muttered, her mind still occupied on her work.

"Nothing," Edward shot. He fought the simmer of a blush that threatened to tinge his cheeks a garish pink. His mind hurled through all of the thoughts that he had been brewing. Suddenly, the weight of self-consciousness came crashing down onto him. And, for once, it wasn't completely about his height. How, in the countless times that Winry had repaired his auto mail, had he been able to strip down like it was nothing? While automail repair was hardly erotic, he was still near naked on a table, being poked an prodded by a member of the opposite sex. It was difficult not to dwell on the lucidity of the concept. Why had he never seen their appointments in this way? Was he over-thinking the situation?

A new thought dawned on him, sending the adolescent boy into a chilling sweat: Had Winry ever felt this way about their sessions? With his vulnerability at her fingertips, the idea must have run through her mind at one point or another, right? Much to Edward's dismay, the blush he had been damming back roared forward with a vengeance, painting his cheeks as well as his neck a rosy hue.

As much as he had hoped that his rouge would go unnoticed, the chiding snickers of a few of the nearby soldiers only served to confirm his insecurity and deepen the color on his cheeks. Just as well, sweat was now pouring down his neck and face like a salty geyser.

"Ed, what the hell's wrong with you? You're making my gloves damp!" The astonished girl stared at the wet spot that had formed on one of her leather work gloves.

"That's not the only thing he wants to wet," whispered one of the soldiers, elbowing his friend with exuberant humor. Much to Ed's dismay, he was not the only one who had caught the comment.

"What was that?!" Her deep blue eyes boiled at the table where the comment had originated. The soldiers gave her innocent expressions as they continued their card game.

"Why Miss Rockbell, my friend here was merely making an observation. Nothing personal," mocked the brutish man with his guise of sincerity. Ed felt like he was going to vomit and pass out.

Winry shot the group a glare. "Could you cut it? I'm almost finished so I don't want all of you distracting me."

"But, Miss Rockbell, it is you who is the distraction." One of the soldiers gave a brief wink at a mortified Ed before Winry turned around.

"Out. ALL of you," she barked, eyes fuming with the steam of Hades. She swept her wrench at the door in a menacing motion.

"C'mon."

"We're just kidding around, sweetheart. Can't you take a joke?" The others howled in agreement.

"All of you shut the fuck up and do what she says," snarled Kimblee from a distant corner. Licking the inside of his cheek, he continued, "Get going. You've all been pissing me off anyways."

Boos and groans of complaint echoed through the halls as the room was left to a population of three. Never had Ed been more thankful for Kimblee's presence. The Crimson Asshole was the only thing that stood between him and impending mortification. However, even this liberty was short lived as the menacing figure stood up from his station and arched sleepily. He stalked closer to their table, watching the skillful celerity of the girl as she fixed the drenched boy. Between the flickers of the candle, a Cheshire grin had plastered itself onto Kimblee's lips.

"Well, Fullmetal, I suppose that it's time for me to retire," rasped the man, his eyes taunting Edward with every syllable. "Now don't you worry though. There's a few guards around to make sure no one gets in or _out_, so you and your girl here should be pretty safe. Try not to be too late, by the way. Funny things can happen at this hour on your way to bed."

Ed couldn't decide whether the threat or the double-entendre was more disconcerting. The dark haired man gave Edward a hinting wink before erupting into a fit of beast-like laughter. "Goodnight, Miss Rockbell. Don't let the bedbugs bite."

"Can't see how they'd stand the temperature up here," replied the occupied blonde. Ed could have fainted with relief that she had missed the innuendo "Goodnight, Mr. Kimblee."

With that, the white cloaked man made his way down one of the corridors, hands in his pockets and a whistle trailing behind him even as he had faded from view.

This was it. This was exactly what Ed had been fearing. Trepidation coursed through his body as Winry continued her task. It wasn't so much that he feared the girl. After all, how long had they been acquainted? She had been his closest friend since time in memorial. In the absence of other eyes, the alien feelings that had just begun to bubble magnified to an unbearable level. Romance and courting were abstract concepts to Edward. For longer than he could remember and well before his military career, his world had been made of alchemical equations and scientific enigmas. Since he could walk and talk, curiosity for the natural world had occupied the far reaches of his thoughts. The death of his mother and the events of October 3, 1910 had only served as a catalyst in his mental exploits. It had never once occurred to Edward that the yearnings of youth would exhibit such a presence in himself. Sure, he had met a few pretty girls along his path but even beauties like Rose could not deter his autonomous wanderlust.

Winry, though, was a different matter... Even prior to all of these mystifying revelations, there had been a part of Edward that lay with this tomboyish mechanic. It was a fact that he had always been able to acknowledge himself. Only now did he recognize the audacity of this truth. His life had long been a scattered myriad of puzzle pieces that he had been gradually putting back together. The only piece left after his body and his brother was... her. Perhaps, this was what scared him so much. Winry had always been there for him. As a friend, a mechanic, a confidant, and most importantly, a home. What was the use of vying for a lover as well? There was always a greater chance of loss than gain from puppy love. He had already lost so much. And if there was one thing he could not bear to think of losing, it was her.

"What's with you? You're never this quiet," Winry observed, performing the remaining touches on his auto mail. The fracture of silence snapped Edward out of his reverie as he jumped in surprise. "Hey, watch it! This is delicate work, and I don't want you messing it up now that I'm almost finished!"

"DON'T SURPRISE A GUY LIKE THAT, THEN!" Edward trembled more from shock than anger as his female counterpart face him. She held her defensive position accurately, hands on her hips as she still clutched a wrench.

"MAYBE IF YOU DIDN'T FALL ASLEEP SO EASILY, YOU WOULDN'T HAVE TO GET WOKEN UP!"

"WOMAN, I WASN'T ASLEEP!"

"FINE, THEN QUIT DAYDREAMING SO DAMN MUCH! WHAT WERE YOU THINKING ABOUT ANYWAY?!"

Winry's words hit Edward like one of Major Armstrong's bricks. The cursed blush returned. "Nothing," he murmured softly, looking down at the table. How could he even begin to answer her question?

"Really, because it sure seems like something," Winry replied, more inquisitive than agitated.

"Winry, I_" His amber eyes gazed up into her bright blue irises. For a moment, it seemed as if the world had paused to watch this fascinating scene. They held their eyes steady, both wondering that such a moment was merely the phantasmic material of a dream. Neither spoke for fear of subtracting from the beauty of the moment. For this single point in time, they understood each other in the most entire sense. In that split instant of eternity, Edward knew exactly what to say. "Winry, I'm sorry."

The look on the blonde's face was a hair more than flabbergasted. Of all the things she had expected to come out of his large mouth, an apology was not one. Her listless hands stopped dropped to her side as she stepped back to inspect him more clearly.

"For what?" Winry's eyebrows rose at the spontaneous apology.

"For everything," he murmured, using his free arm to sit up. The candles had devoured enough of their wax that only a small, faint halo encompassed the two friends. To the both of them, the only world that existed at this moment was themselves. "For everything."

"Edward, I_" but he cut her sentence with his urgent words.

"I am so sorry for everything. I'm sorry that we left you. I'm sorry that I was never there for you when you needed me. I'm sorry that I never try as hard as I should to keep in contact with you and Pinako. I'm sorry that you have to worry about my dumb ass all of the time. I'm sorry that I'm so selfish and stubborn. I'm sorry that you probably feel alone. I'm sorry that I've been so hard on you. I'm sorry that life hasn't been turning out the way you might have wanted it to." He paused for a moment, his molten amber eyes aglow with the light of regret. "Winry... I'm sorry for everything." The sobriety in his words left the girl speechless. Her iridescent blue eyes shone with a renewed sense of wonder as her lips sat slightly agape.

And suddenly, he was in her strong grip, the girl's laughter chiming like bells in his golden mane. "You never cease to amaze me, Edward Elric."

Edward couldn't help but join the mirthful melee of his friend. Hidden behind her honey colored tresses, a tear or two managed to roam down his cheek. They sat for what they deemed a timeless minute, holding onto an embrace more powerful or intimate than anyone else in their lives could comprehend. Most certainly not Colonel Mustang, Ed noted.

When they were finally able to break away, they settled for an awkward moment before Winry continued her work. No more conversation or explanation was needed from her childhood friend. They had found peace, if but only for a moment.

Once she was prepared for the nerve attachment part of the process, Edward grabbed his coat and bit into it fiercely. Right before she linked the nerves to the ports, Winry gave him a gloved hand. Never, in the number of times she had done this, had she ever failed to offer him this small token of kindness before the excruciating agony.

"One, two, three," she mumbled, connecting flesh to metal in a moment that she almost deemed sacred. Volts of pain shot up Edward's arm as he gave muffled cries from his full mouth. It was over, though. She had finished her job.

As Winry packed up, Edward threw on his clothing and assisted her. In all of the time they had spent together, there was still a question that had been left unanswered . "When do you plan to head out?"

Throwing a wrench in her box, she grabbed a rag and wiped her hands roughly. "I'm not sure. I suppose that decision is up to Mr. Kimblee. He's the one who brought me up here, after all."

Edward gave a low, flustered grunt.

"What? So quick to get rid of me?" Winry playfully tugged his braid as he grabbed one of her behemoth tool boxes.

"Not exactly," he sighed, deciding that now was just as good of a time to tell her as later. "Winry, there's something Al and I haven't exactly been honest about."

"Edward Elric, I'm no moron. I know that you've been neglecting my automail but I guess I'll forgi_"

"Winry, it's nothing like that. What we haven't been telling you is why you're here," Edward said, trying to keep his voice steady as they began to progress down a corridor. She gave him a puzzled look as they strode side by side into the torchlit tunnel. "Winry... you're not only at Briggs to fix up my automail. The real reason Kimblee brought you here is that... well, you're liability for Al and I."

Ed felt a wave of nausea as Winry's face bleached to a ghostly shade. "I_I'm a hostage?"

"Yes," he replied, the taste of the word bitter on his tongue.

"Wha-wha_" she stuttered, unable to produce coherent words.

"Not out here," he whispered. A few yards down, he slipped into her room. While he locked the door, she kindled a candle on her night stand, struggling to fight the surge of tremors that had overtaken her hands. Suddenly, the small room seemed more like a dungeon than a guest room to Winry. She settled on her bed, head in her hands as the awful revelation sunk in.

"Edward," said Winry in an even voice. "What the hell have you and Alphonse gotten into this time?"

"Winry..." muttered Edward, his heart weighed heavy with guilt and empathy. "There is a lot more going on in this country than we could have dreamed. But... I can't explain everything. Not at this point in time."

"Is it those homunculi-things?" She looked up at him, the curious sheen of her eyes striking Ed with uncertainty.

"I-uh... yes. They're apart of it at least."

For a moment, Winry was silent. Then, a rush of horror swept over her. "Edward... what about Gran? Is she safe?!"

"Yes, Gran will be_"

"EDWARD, IF THEY TOOK ME HOSTAGE WHAT MAKES YOU THINK THEY WON'T TAKE HER HOSTAGE AS WELL?! SHE'S JUST OLD WOMAN. WHAT IF THEY_"

"Settle down, Winry!" Ed said not unkindly. He placed a hand on her shoulder until she gathered herself and looked up at him. "Winry, they're not going to take Gran. The reason that they took you is... er..."

Edward's heart leaped into his throat, embarrassed by a powerful realization. He could feel a hot blush mounding behind his cheeks.

"What is it Ed?" Winry asked, confused by his reaction.

"They... uh... Well Winry, they took you because they think that I'm in love with you." The words tasted peculiar on his tongue as he observed his companion's reaction.

"Oh," was all that Winry could manage. Both friends had blushed a deep beet red. Eyes were averted, and an uncomfortable silence was set upon them. To relieve some of his internal tension, Edward began to rub the back of his neck with his auto mail hand. Suddenly, Ed realized how near their bodies were to each other. Their hands reclined dangerously close together on the bed... THE BED. Lost in his thoughts and their dyer situation, Ed had not put much gravity on the fact that he had come into her bedroom. Alone and unattended. At night. Kimblee's words struck a mortifying chord in his head: "Funny things can happen at this hour on your way to bed."

The room had now turned into a foreign landscape to Ed as the strange, aliens feelings began to arise in him again. At one point in his life, beds were just things that you slept on or rested on. Going to bed with someone was as simple as sleeping by their side. Now though, the fury of it all hit him like a wayward brick. They were completely and utterly isolated in this room, no one to diffuse the sexual tension that had erupted between the two friends. Suddenly, a sick thought came to Ed as he sat on this bed with this beautiful girl: if she allowed him, he could take her right then and there. Swear poured down his face as he imaged her delicate hand in his automail fingers, pinned to the blue sheets of the bed.

No. He couldn't dwell in that realm of thought. Not now, at least; too many important things were at hand. He had to say something and break the spell before his imagination roamed too far. "Are you afraid?"

"Wha_" she mumbled, looking over at the golden haired boy.

"Of the hostage situation," he interjected, swerving from a more uncomfortable conversation.

"I... no. It's not so much of a shock the more I think about it but I need to get back to Resembool. To Gran. If you say there's so much going on, I'd rather not leave her alone in these troubling times. How did they find out that we... er, have a history?"

"You're not going to believe me but... Furor Bradley is a homunculus," Ed stated. He watched as Winry digested the news. Disbelief echoed through her wide stare as her mouth hung open. The way those lips hung brought a hot rush through Ed's body as he imaged them... He shook himself, focusing rather on her words.

"I told him everything, Ed." Her voice was small and faint. "I told him about our childhood, about our home, about growing up together. Edward... I put everyone in Resembool in danger."

"Winry_"

"No Ed," she insisted, wringing a handful of blanket as tears welled up in her eyes. "If anything happens to anyone back home, it'll be because of me! Because I couldn't keep my mouth shut."

"Winry, you couldn't have known anything like this would happen. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. I kept you mostly in the dark to protect you. I guess I failed you regardless but I won't let anything happen to Gran, and I certainly won't let anything happen to Resembool." She looked up at him with hopeful eyes as he placed a hand under her jaw. "Most of all, I won't let anything happen to you."

"Edward, I..." She whispered as their eyes met once more. Unbeknownst to Winry, Ed's heart had begun to race like an engine. All she knew is that a strange warmth had taken her body, and thinking was becoming a treacherous task. Her wistful hand stretched to his cheek, as it had in so many of her forsaken dreams. Edward's skin seared her trembling fingertips as they rested gently on his hot skin. The move was so bold that Winry could hardly believe that she had done it.

Edward sat shell-shocked, paralyzed under her trembling hand. His breath caught in his chest, afraid that the porcelain fingers on his cheekbones might shatter if he were to so much as twitch a muscle.

"Winry..." he whispered, unable to process what was happening. The blonde girl furrowed her eyebrows as if she were trying to comprehend the situation as well. The world had become a deliquescent haze before her very eyes, and euphoria had bundled every single one of her senses into cocoon of disarray.

Was it the web of heat that had spun itself around them, the quiet, the pulse of life under the handsome boy's flesh? Whatever compelled Winry to act next, she was swift about it. Before Edward could react, their lips were locked into a firm embrace. Winry's grasp on his cheek had become hard and desperate as she leaned into him, her searing breath trickling into his mouth.

In all the years of his life, Edward had been prepared to respond to the unexpected. He had preserved his brother's soul on a whim, and spared both their lives from numerous ambushes. The celerity of Edward's brain was where most of his strength thrived, and the army prized him for his decisiveness. But for once in his life, he had no counterattack. There was no clever plan or sound strategy to draw from. Panic poured through his frayed nerves as her kiss began to deepen. Edward's eyes flew open as Winry's fingers began to invade his golden hairline, combing hungrily through the fine strands. Her sapphire eyes were hidden under pink eyelids; to Edward, it looked almost as if she were in the midst of a fulfilling dream.

And at that instant, a maelstrom of feelings burst forth, sending every atom of his body into spiraling chaos. Edward was simultaneously devoured by desire as well as other vague sensations. Longing ached deep in his chest at the brilliance of her essence on his lips, sending his heart into a frenzied madness. This stubborn, infuriating, wonderful, beautiful girl brought a surge of bliss into his darkened world, illuminating a path to the murky future. He saw them flitting hand-in-hand through the fields of Resembool, smiling with breathless rhapsody at the world that held so many possibilities. He saw the glorious outline of Winry clad in a white lace gown and Gran's little yellow house as it awaited the newlywed lovers. He saw them laughing and talking and making love and making a life together. He saw children. He saw all those old faces and old places that awaited his journey's end. But then... there were the shadows. Seven black figures glided through the jocular fantasy, bringing a fracture of despair in their wake. Their terrible faces were drawn into hush laughter, and he saw a great white silhouette as it buried its fingers into his world and tore it to oblivion. Everything fell away: his friends, his home, his brother, and worst of all, Winry. Everything gone. Forever.

Suddenly, there was only fear. It was the trepidation of loss that pulled at his heartstrings now, desire having been swallowed by the horror of reality. _Not now_, he pleaded wordlessly. _Please. There is too much to gamble away and too much to contend with. Why now?! Why is this happening now?!_

Their lips parted as Edward lurched back so violently that he slammed into the door, facing Winry with a wide-eyed expression. For a second, silence haloed the separation with palpable tension. Edward heaved as sweat cascaded down his face, his eyes alive with the fear that polluted his fantasies. Winry merely sat mortified and bewildered, her cheeks rosy from the abrupt rejection.

"I..." Was all that Edward could say, his words stranded in the midst of his heaving lungs. He wanted to scream an explanation to her. He wanted to yell these feelings like they were the last words he would utter. The words, however, were trapped between his teeth.

"Edward," Winry mumbled lightly as regret weighed heavily upon her expression. Realization had begun to dawn on her; it was a revolting feeling that pressed deep into her gut.

"I-I'm sorry," he spouted, fingers clawing into the wooden door. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as he looked at the despondent girl. Bowing his head, he whispered, "Winry, I... I just can't."

Winry's face harbored unspeakable disappointment as she gazed at him with longing. They sat for a moment, marinating in the contemptible condition of the present. And then, with a last mournful glance, Edward was gone.

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><p>The hall seemed to swallow Edward like a great, yawning throat as he sprinted through the drab labyrinth of grey brick and doors. Unnatural speed guided his feet along the silent corridors from the myriad of racing thoughts that threatened to overtake him. He didn't want to think. He didn't want to feel. All that the young man could will for himself was to drive forward with rapid pace. Edward ignored the stitch that tore at his chest as he charged on without a destination in mind. If he stopped, the night would tear him apart. He couldn't bear to look at anyone for the present, especially not Alphonse. Even with his thoughts corralled, he felt the weight of despair as it hung precariously over his head.<p>

Edward slammed to a standstill as a phantasmic figure emerged from the inky stretch of corridor ahead. Once his eyes had adjusted, his stomach gave a lurch as he recognized the gaunt face and cold, grey eyes that watched from the shadows.

"In a rush, are we Edward?" Kimblee inquired. He banished the dark as his long, thin arm swept a torch from the wall. "Have we not played nicely with Ms. Rockbell this evening? It'd be a shame if you two were at odds."

The taste of bile tainted Edward's mouth as he absorbed Kimblee's words. The man flashed a caustic grin as he drew nearer.

"I was on my way to my room," Edward shot, regaining some of his composure.

"Sure, sure. I wouldn't think you'd run out on your brother or your little girlfriend. I merely came to inform you that your room has been relocated to another part of the fort."

"What about Alphonse?" Anger began to simmer in Edward as comprehension of the situation dawned on him.

"I never said HE was being relocated." Kimblee's eyes radiated malicious joy. He stepped past Edward and began to stride down the corridor. Without even looking back, he called, "Edward, there are some guards up ahead to escort you to your room. If you could be cooperative, that would be quite appreciated. If not... I'm sure that they'd be more than happy to give you another automail arm or leg for your girlfriend to work on."

For a second, Edward refused to move as he watched the white figure glide away like a terrible specter. With a final sigh, the young man trudged off toward his awaited isolation. There was no use in fighting the inevitable fate that befell the separated brothers. If his night could have gotten worse, it just had.

* * *

><p>The boiler room was as scalding as ever while the men put a last leg of effort into sealing the hole. The cement was prepared, and all that remained was to suffocate the great mouth with their laborious concoction. It had taken hours to find the ingredients and prepare the cement; no time was squandered on medial conversation or breaks. As they hauled the vat over to the hole, a harsh voice pierced the air with willful imperative.<p>

"Stop right there," barked General Armstrong as she descended the stairs to the floor. "There's been a change of plans. We are NOT going to seal this hole."

"Commander?" One of the men called, his eyes casting dubious suspect on the woman. "I don't think_"

"SOLDIER, IF I GAVE A FUCK WHAT YOU THOUGHT, I'D BE A PRIVATE AS WELL! STAND DOWN OR I'LL CUT YOU DOWN," she menaced while reaching for the sword strapped to her belt. The soldier cowered, and looked away. "We need to keep this hole open. It's a direct connection to the enemy, and while it opens us all up to attack, it also gives us a direct line of action. Now if any of you want to challenge my decision, I'd be more than glad to settle it by dual. Otherwise, get to bed immediately. I will stand watch over this hole all night if I have to in case the enemy makes an appearance. Tomorrow, we will take initiative and attack them from behind when they least expect it."

"But General, what about your safety?" Another soldier called, concern ringing in his voice.

"I have fought countless battles, and slain scores of Drachmans that have dared so much as piss near this fort. If you think I can't handle myself, you all are a bigger sack of numb-nuts than I had thought! NOW GET TO BED OR I'LL MAKE YOUR BED OUTSIDE WITH THE BEARS, GOT IT?" An unconquerable light shone from her eyes as the defeated soldiers turned for the stairs, a graveness in their step. She could smell their disapproval like a body odor.

As soon as the final man had closed the door up above, General Armstrong stood motionless in the vast chamber. The air around seemed to congeal in an ethereal sense as she broke a wide, animalistic grin and began to laugh. Though it chimed with the magnificence of a war-bell, the underlying mania gave her a demoniac impression. The laughter warped into a raspy cackle as a flash of light encumbered the General, fading away to reveal Envy standing in triumph above the enormous hole.

"Those stupid humans really bought it, didn't they? Didn't they, Pride?" The hole stirred with a thousand unblinking as Envy fell into another fit of laughter. "So much for the Northern Wall of Briggs. The cunt is easier to imitate than a child's finger-painting."

The eyes were fixed on Envy without even a vibe of good humor. Envy staunched his gleeful tirade and gave the eyes a look of distaste.

"Well fine, if that's the way that you want to be. Wait here. I'll grab the girl and be back soon. If anyone comes in, stay hidden unless your judgment tells you otherwise." Another flash of light swallowed Envy, this time unveiling an exact replication of Edward Elric in his stead. Another beastly grin contorted his face. "Pay backs gonna be a bitch, huh Pip-Squeak?"


	2. Chapter 2: Nightmare's Touch

**Please read first**: Hello there again! Just another author's note. I wanted to say it's nice to finally publish a fanfic. Heck, it's nice to share my writing at all! I'm terribly bashful when it comes to my writing (only my writing, FYI; I'm a chatterbox in real life). As I've said, I really want constructive criticism to better myself as a writer. Also, **Question: Why can't I view my story with all of the other FMA stories?** If anyone could answer this, I'd be grateful. I'm trying to get as many views and comments as I can. If you can answer this, I'd appreciate it! On a side note, this chapter is much shorter than the first. I figured the cut off was appropriate so I decided to save some momentous things for later. Other than all of this... ENJOY!

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><p>The windowless room did little to console Edward's damp mood as he lay under the thick blankets, arms crossed under his head in a typical position. Try as he may, the memory danced like a fresh reel of film through his exhausted brain. It all seemed so vague, like the way one would experience a nightmare. The hurt look on her face, the forlorn way in which her body seemed to crumple after he had pulled away, the mounting tears in those huge, blue eyes; frustration frazzled every nerve in his body as he frowned at the ceiling.<p>

How could he have been such a coward to run out like that, leaving her to contend with his ambivalent words?! But what else could he have done? By pulling away, the damage had already been inflicted. It was better that way, better that she questioned his affection for her. The more she hated him, the greater a chance that she would be kept at arms length, away from Father and the homunculi. His life was riddled with unfathomable danger and responsibility. To wish the weight of the world on this girl would not only be selfish but destructive. Still, his heart ached for her. More than he liked to admit, he NEEDED her. She was that piece... that last, missing piece... but it couldn't be. He knew it. It would be better if that last piece were missing than shattered and gone. Even once this whole conquest had closed its final curtain, the military would plunder away more of his time and energy. The last thing that Winry needed was more of his unreliable bull-shit in her life. Though the thought made him unnecessarily ill, he figured that the most he could wish for her was to settle down in Resembool or Rush Center with an average husband and a thriving automail business. Damn... that made him sick.

After an hour or so of this sort of musing, Edward could no longer resist the seduction of sleep as it bestowed an alluring kiss onto his weary eyelids. Suddenly, the world did not seem so blunt and melancholy; he had dissolved into the bright watercolor substance of a dream filled with glorious sunlight and green, virginal fields. He recognized them as the landscape of Resembool, beckoning his return for the sake of a lonely girl. He dashed through the fields, the tall grass whispering the news in his wake. And as if conceived from the very ground he tread upon, Winry stood before him. He long, fair hair was set free to the will of the breeze, sweeping with it the tail of her white sundress. She gave him a modest smile before stepping forward to embrace him with a slow, soft kiss. Amidst the endless liberty of his dream, he kissed her back, allowing the sensation to deepen and smolder as he gently slipped to the ground and pulled her onto him. She grinned endearingly when their lips parted, tracing the etching of his jaw. With bashful eyes, she tugged up at the white dress, allowing the wind to dismiss it as she revealed to him her naked form. Shocked, he lay wordless as he blushed at the angelic being that hovered over his reclining body. Even in dreams, he still wasn't used to this kind of thing.

* * *

><p>Slumber had not been so yielding to Winry as she wove herself among the mass of blankets. The night seemed to wander into eternity as she prayed for sleep to sweep away the disparaging debris of the day. Sleep never came to her aid, though. She buried her face into the depths of her pillow as she recalled the awful moment that he had jerked away. Mortification swallowed her as she remembered the look in his eyes, the sheer expression of panic as he observed her with grotesque disbelief. What had she done?! It was as if she had violated a sacred treaty that had maintained a platonic stability to their relationship. Too eagerly, she had had burnt the seal with her avaricious lips. Why did she have to be so petulant and selfish? Edward was obviously not ready to express this level of affection. Perhaps, he would never be able to express it <em>for her<em>.

She cursed to folly of her impatient manner as she drew upon memories that filled her silence. Once more, she watched him through the window of a train as he called out, "The next time I make you cry, it'll be tears of joy!" His face seemed younger the memory, unblemished by the hell he had encountered in this adventure. That had been the moment of true revelation, she remembered with a sigh. Since that defining second in her life, she had been conscious of her love for Edward; as for how long she had loved him, she wasn't sure. Maybe she had always loved him. Regardless of the span of these feelings, she had never fallen prey to their impulse. It had taken personal discipline and self-control to prevent her from being bridled and ridden by the whim of her hormones. Even then, there were still the nonsexual desires to contend with in love. Winry forced herself not to enjoy his company too much or smile too much when she saw him trekking up the road or feel too sad when he had parted for another military mission. All of this effort, though, had been wrought in vain. She loved him; it was plain and simple. Whether he reciprocated the intensity of these feelings, she couldn't decipher. Edward had always been somewhat of a closed book in comparison to cheerful Al, who wore his heart on his metal sleeve. Time would tell whether Ed would be willing to converse with her on the topic or always keep a dusty book marker in this chapter of their lives.

Wiping away a few tears, Winry's thoughts flitted further into the past. With residual agony, she recalled the night that the State Alchemists came to her and Gran's doorstep, their faces as stark as their collars. Their words were swift and thorough, and the only phrase that she could digest was " I'm sorry, ma'am; your son and his wife are dead." Winry had been so young and vulnerable at the time; the men weren't even strong enough to look into her shattered eyes. Her world had been completely obliterated, and all that they could do was apologize to her grandmother on the behalf of the State and walk away from the doorstep, unscathed. From the comfort of her grandmother's legs, she had sprinted as fast as her developing legs could carry her out the back door. Ignoring Pinako's calls, she had galloped through the fields that rippled like unforgiving flames while her life disintegrated to dying embers. There she stood, atop one of the higher hills that looked down upon a quiet valley. Winry observed as birds glided by overhead and the wind blew and the trees of a distant forest stood rooted. The sun continued to endow rays as it began to set in its usual course of manner. How was it fair that life could just go on?! She had collapsed onto the ground and wept into her small hands for the apathy of a world that had swallowed her parents.

After what seemed like ages of this uncensored grief, a small voice had piped up behind her. "Winry?" A younger Edward had asked, settling down next to her. He had pulled his knees to his chest and watched her with intent in his large, golden eyes. She tried to dismiss him from her presence, turning her back to him without a word. She never did like to cry in front of him. Waiting him out, though, proved to be a fruitless effort. Edward had stayed by her side, neither speaking nor moving in the process. Finally, she had felt a light tap on her shoulder, her head turning to find a wildflower shoved into her tear-stained face. "Here." The boy had insisted, sliding the stem through her fine blonde hair. Winry had stared at him, puzzled but comforted by the gesture. Giving her a knowing smile, he grabbed her hand and hoisted her up; that day, she did not return home alone or completely broken, and the world seemed just a little less cold.

Tonight though, like most nights, Edward was not around to comfort her. Winry's only consolation was the tear-stained pillow clasped between her arms and the promise of another sunrise. Sunrise, sunset; this was her weary cycle. It was fallacy to think that her life could march to any other cadence. She had to be strong, though. Gran counted on her. Numerous customers in Resembool and Rush Center counted on her. Right here and right now, Edward counted on her. Though she felt the weight of loneliness bearing down more than ever, Winry realized that now was not the time for mourning unrequited love or conjuring sorrows of the past. Now was the time for her to stand on her own two feet and banish the hurt, if not for herself then for the ones she loved.

Just as this renewed sense of strength allowed her to settle to the brink of sleep, there was a creak and the door flung open. She sat up, and much to her surprise, Edward's silhouette appeared in the dim light of the doorway.

"Edward...? What're_"

"There's no time to lose!" He cried, rushing over and grabbing her by the wrist. He yanked her out of the bed and out the door; all the while, as he maneuvered through the gray maze, speech and clear thought evaded her. She could feel the panic writhing through the boy, and it put her ill at ease.

After a minute or two, Winry regained herself and barked, "Edward, what the hell are you doing?! What's going on?!"

"No time to explain," he replied, pulling her deeper into the bowels of the fort. Winry, however, wasn't going to accept this answer; she dug her heels into the ground and nearly sent both of them tumbling forward.

"You've survived three years without calling or writing because _there wasn't enough time_. I think you can take a minute to explain what in God's name is going on and where we are going." The glare she gave Edward declared her dogmatism, and he knew she wouldn't budge one bit until he acceded.

He looked as if he wanted to choke the obstinance out of her. However, Edward merely sighed and launched into a half-mangled explanation. "Look, one of those black-caped freaks will be here any second, and plucking little blonde girls is at the top of its errand list. Out of the sheer kindness of my heart, I thought I'd take it upon myself to grab YOUR happy pelt and blow this ice tray."

Winry stared at him for a minute, her expression blank and dumbfounded. "Me?"

"Nah, I mean General Armstrong_ YES WINRY! YOU! One of those big ugly bastards is on its merry little way to come retrieve YOU! Don't ask me why. All I know is that there are two options: we can stick around to find out what it wants with you, or we can get you the hell out of here. If you have more than bolts and screws in that head of yours, keep your legs moving." With that, Edward gave a violent thrust forward, and the two friends were sprinting down the corridor once more.

The whole world swiveled under Winry, and her legs cycled in long, rag-doll lopes. Everything was melting into a puddle of the surreal and truly awful, and there was nothing she could do to maintain a grasp on the world. She couldn't even convince herself that any of this was occurring.

_It's just a dream_, Winry reassured herself. _You're just under an intense amount of emotional stress, and it's messing with you. There's no way that any of those monster-things are coming for you. That's just preposterous and downright stupid! Come to think of it, all of this has to be one big dream! Kimbley, the trip to Fort Briggs, yelling at Ed in the freezing cold, fixing Ed's automail, kissing Ed_ KISSING ED?! That settles it; I'm having one of THOSE dreams again. Except this time, it ends with us running around like morons through Fort Ice-Cube instead of going back to my room and__

She staunched that train of thought and blushed profusely. _I'll wake up soon, safe and warm in Resembool. I'll lie nestled under the covers for a bit and try to laugh it off. I'll decide it's just a result of overworking. Gran will call for me to come downstairs for breakfast, and when I do, I'll tell her I need a breather-day. Maybe Den and I could go for a walk down the river, enjoy the scenery and take in the peace and quiet. If I can just wake up from this_ _nightmare..._

The hall came to an abrupt end, and they were jolting down a flight of stairs. The room below was massive and hot, much to Winry's surprise. It looked to be some kind of furnace room, filled with hulking machines that emitted steam and the occasional sharp whistle. "What is this_"

"No time," Edward growled. "Just keep moving."

He bounded over the last few steps with the agility of a cat, nearly plowing her face-first to the floor in the process. Winry was barely on her toes before they were racing towards the center of the room... towards _it_. She had been so enamored by all of the other aspects of the room, she failed to observe this one detail. This one ENORMOUS detail. With every step, a colossal black hole blossomed before them. A warning bell trilled through her head, but what did it matter? This was a dream, after all. It would be resolved with the sunrise and a fresh pot of Gran's coffee.

After what seemed to be an eternity, the two friends stood gazing over the abysm. Winry crouched over, panting and gasping for air. Edward, however, was cool and unruffled, as if he had barely lifted a finger.

"Where's_Alphonse?" The girl managed through broken breathes.

"He's staying behind with everyone else. There's going to be a fight, and it ain't gonna be pretty. Fort Briggs will need all the soldiers it can get."

"What about you? Are you going to fight?!" Winry's stomach clutched at the thought. She hated thinking of Ed in another gory skirmish.

"Not unless you want me to throw you down this hole so you can find your own way back home," muttered Ed, glaring into the black and tapping his foot. "Alphonse and I decided it would be best if I lead you back to Central."

Winry could no longer ignore her own instincts. Dream Ed was definitely off. The real Edward would never abjure a conflict or leave Alphonse in a precarious situation. If anything, Al would be the one guiding her to safety while he charged into the fray. What's more, the behavior of dream-Ed was peculiar in itself. This Edward seemed curt, more impatient and irritable than usual... as if he were waiting on something.

Terror gripped Winry's gut, and the hairs on the nape of her neck became needles. Wicked intentions were in motion, she could taste it in the air. She needed to break this nightmare. FAST.

_What can I do What can I do_, she mused, rifling through possible shock-tactics that could disperse the dream. _What is something that I would never do in a million years? Something unthinkable that even my conscious self wouldn't be able to_ _process?_

Then, it came to her. Without a moment's hesitation, Winry grabbed Edward by both of his shoulders and spun him around so that they were nose to nose. "Edward Elric, ever since the day I laid eyes on you, since Ishval claimed my parents, since your mother's death and October 3, 1910, through the sorrow and the hurt and the constant pursuit for answers that drove a wedge between us, I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN IN LOVE WITH YOU!"

Before dream-Edward could utter a syllable, she had consumed his mouth in another sweet embrace. For a moment, relief enveloped Winry as she soared upon the words that had plagued her mind and tongue for months. She felt awakened and liberated just to release the whirlwind of bottled emotions, even to a figment of her imagination. However, the weight of reality began to sink the longer she kissed him, and Winry began to suspect that this was a nightmare from which there was no waking. There was not sunlight or Resembool or smell of bacon to sever the spell. What's worse, the prior fervor that had merged between their lips was now absent, no surge of electricity or conflagration tingling amidst the passionate entanglement. Only her heat on cold, hard marble.

Winry lurched away from the kiss, and her eyes flew open. Rendered catatonic, she stared at the face before her... three, two, one. _His_ hands_ not the hands of Edward_ were over her mouth before her lungs could procure a scream. There was no golden hair or familiar smile, only a strange face and icy pair of violet eyes that brimmed with contempt and revulsion. The man, the _thing_, clutched her tight to his body so that she could neither run nor fight back. Its fingers and its lips felt synonymous. The creature seemed to be as agitated as she, its expression frozen in a portrait of sheer horror. It trembled to touch her, its plumes of green hair shuddering in congruence with the rest of its body. Whether the thing was angry, shocked, or both, Winry could not tell.

_Just a dream? Winry, you idiot! It's never that simple..._

"You_ little_ bitch," huffed the creature, its voice acute and raspy. "You_ you_ touched me_ you_ put your lips on_ you... PRIDE! PRIDE, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU, YOU SHIFTY SON OF A_"

The hole came alive with the whites of a thousand eyes. They gazed upon Winry and her captor, void of all sensation but an overwhelming deluge of apathy. A shriek pierced her ears, and she felt as if her skull were splitting. Where on earth was that coming from?! The source mystified her until she realized it was her own futile scream against the creature's hand.

"EXACTLY HOW LONG WERE YOU GOING TO SIT AT THE BOTTOM OF THAT DAMN HOLE WHILE I HAD TO RENDEZVOUS WITH CAPTAIN SWIFT-LIPS HERE?! WHAT WERE YOU WAITING FOR, YOU TWAT?! A SHOW?!" The green-haired creature sputtered on as shadowy tendril rose from the pit and began to twine themselves around Winry. "FATHER HELP ME, I MIGHT AS WELL FIND MUSTANG AND PULL A LUST SO HE CAN BURN MY FACE RIGHT OFF AFTER THAT SHIT-SHOW ATROCITY!"

Her heart was paralyzed with unequivocal dread as the ether-like flagella fastened themselves around her exposed skin. It was over. Everything was over. She should have run the moment she knew something was amiss. She should have screamed until her throat raw and brought the wrath of Briggs was roaring down upon the intruders. Instead, she had corrupted her own reason, deluded herself into assuming that monsters and legends could not effuse past the realm of illusion. She would curse her close-mindedness, but it had already exacted condemnation against her.

The black mass crept around Winry's body and congealed into a nightmarish chamber, the eyes slithering in a current around her peripheral. The girl could feel the Lovecraftian shadow pry her away from her captor's grip, pulling her down into the darkness. The earth seemed to pause its axial turn, and time trickled away from her grasp. As Winry descended into this underworld, she was surprised to find her fear evaporating. Her kidnapper fumed away but only mute profanities sprouted from his lips. It was all so vague; the world and her very thoughts bled into incoherence. Heaviness pressed into Winry's gut, but words and recognition evaded her. What was this... this strange feeling?

Winry searched what memories she could access, rifling through every abstract concept and every emotion she could preserve. Finally, as she passed through the brim, her thoughts illuminated, and the word resounded through her bones: _sadness_. No fear, no horror, no anger; there was only sadness. The light of the world passed away above her, the rolling fields of Resembool but a glimmer of days gone by. Alphonse and Gran were ghosts shelved into her remnant subconscious, no more tangible than her parents. And Edward... my God, Edward. The name sent a last thrill through her body, and she reached a hand towards the heavens. A tear roamed down her cheek as the beast enveloped her, and the life she knew was no more. The eyes swarmed in a torrent around the girl, and she descended deeper into the shadows, her hand still extended in vain towards the closing ore of light.

Curtain's fall, fade to black; she was reborn to a cimmerian universe. The swarm of eyes had blinked and disappeared, sealing her in isolation. She glanced around the vacuum, but coordination was impossible to gauge. Everything was nothing and nothing was everything.

_Am I dead?_ She pondered. _Could it be that those things killed me?_

Winry shuddered. She had never formed a solid set of beliefs, but this was not her idea of eternal paradise. As she perused the possibilities, something caught her attention. A faint silhouette gradually emerged from the void... or rather, the void from it. Two glowing irises, the same malignant shade of violet as the eyes of the green-haired monster, dispelled the gloom. Much to Winry's astonishment, this grandiose terror, this master of infinite dread, was a little boy of eight or nine. He wore knickers and a school blazer, his jet black hair side-parted over a cherub's face. The sneer he wore, however, transformed his physiognomy into a ghastly guise. It made Winry ill to merely look at him. He was a perversion, a quip against nature.

"Hmph. So this is the new Lust," he vociferated, the clang of a dozen voices expelling from his tongue. "What a slight specimen, even for a human. I should hope Father won't be too disappointed."

He gave a nonchalant shrug and muttered, "Sleep."

The boy waved his hand, and Winry's entire body went numb. Inertia flooded from her toes to her head, and she could feel sleep bearing down upon her. Lids falling, Winry registered his final words before she fell unconscious.

"I hope Envy knows what he is doing."

* * *

><p>Envy continued to peer down into the hole until he could no longer see Pride or that <em>nasty little blonde insect<em>. What nerve! What absolute nerve a little shit-eating worm had to lay a finger on him! He could still feel her lips on his own, warm and sloppy and... _human_. Envy thought he was going be sick.

_"_The things I do for Father and that lot of wretches," he muttered. "Envy, you need to quit making stupid plans that put you into stupid situations."

His solo was not even close to ending in this grand opera, however. There was more work to do yet, and Envy foresaw further unpleasantries in his future. Sighing, a flash of light engulfed him. It was Act II, and he had another character to portray. This time, however, he would not be parading around as Pipsqueak. Envy fingered his long wheat-blonde hair and wrinkled his nose. He'd been soldiers. He'd been politicians. Hell, he'd even been an old, foul-mouthed Ishvalan woman once! Never in all his centuries had he ever been a teenage girl. What do they do anyway?! Probably just bat their eyelashes and open their legs. Oh, and whine around a lot about boys and unrequited love.

Hugging his breasts and twirling around, Envy cried, "Oh Edward! Love me! Love me! My very existence dwindles without all five feet of your hunky alchemist self!"

The homunculus suddenly felt nauseated. What if he had to kiss Fullmetal? Or worse... ABSOLUTELY NOT! Father would be long deceased and rotting in the saltiest circle of hell before he would go past first base with that insufferable elbow-rest! It was vital that Winry's absence be hidden; after all, it wouldn't do to have Captain Midget Fantastico and The Tin Can Wonder as well as a dozen pissed-off Briggs soldiers bursting in on her conversion process. What this plan did not entail was anything relating to Fullmetal's genitalia, and Envy would see that it remained that way.

This situation was not entirely repugnant, though. The girl was head-over-heels for Elric; the odious taste on his lips assured this fact. Perhaps, Envy pondered, Fullmetal shared the sentiments. At the very least, he cared deeply for this girl. Maybe he could salvage his own dignity with some espionage. Just maybe...

Envy cleared his throat. "Edward, I'm worried about you! Please tell me what's going on. I want to help. I... I_ care about you."

The words gurgled in his throat, and he tasted bile. Father, how he hated humans.


End file.
